The undertakers looked like crows, stiff and black. Black were also the cars lined up on the road that led to the church; also
we were dressed in black, those of us who formed
that clumsy and pathetic group that waited
to have the coffin lifted on their shoulders since the
priest, another black-robed raven, will end
to adjust the ornaments of his ministry.
And suddenly the real crows took flight
from the trees and the fields and, as if they were
pieces of blackened paper detached from a
bonfire, traced an ascending whirlpool and
they fluttered in circles squawking over our
heads. Given the circumstances, that sound
I should have found it harrowing and melancholic,
but, on the contrary, I was filled with joy
heart, the same as the cry of the night owl
above and the distant screeching of seagulls in the
early morning. With a lump in my throat, I said to myself:
It is real. Is now. We are here at home!
we were dressed in black, those of us who formed
that clumsy and pathetic group that waited
to have the coffin lifted on their shoulders since the
priest, another black-robed raven, will end
to adjust the ornaments of his ministry.
And suddenly the real crows took flight
from the trees and the fields and, as if they were
pieces of blackened paper detached from a
bonfire, traced an ascending whirlpool and
they fluttered in circles squawking over our
heads. Given the circumstances, that sound
I should have found it harrowing and melancholic,
but, on the contrary, I was filled with joy
heart, the same as the cry of the night owl
above and the distant screeching of seagulls in the
early morning. With a lump in my throat, I said to myself:
It is real. Is now. We are here at home!